Six Degrees of Seperation
by mandaree1
Summary: Lena and Webby grieve each other while literally in the same room.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!**

**Title: Six Degrees of Seperation**

**Summary: Lena and Webby grieve each other while literally in the same room.**

**...**

For a while, Lena just assumes Webby needs space. Constantly, Webby brushes past her without meeting her eye. Constantly, Webby 'forgets' to save her a seat on the bus, forcing her to stand. Lena figures that's perfectly fair and doesn't fight it.

She _does_ fight her taking off the friendship bracelet.

"I know you're mad at me, Webby, but we're still friends, right?" And Webby, curled up in a little ball, won't answer. "Please, Webby, not the silent treatment. I-I'll take anything else. Just. Stop ignoring me."

And Lena will reach for her. And Lena will pass through. And Lena will pretend she didn't see that, because maybe she is a shadow or whatever again, that doesn't mean anything. That doesn't have to mean anything. She's still Lena, and Webby's still Webby.

"Webby," says Lena, voice shaky and shockingly soft. "You can see me, right?"

The duckling begins to shake, and it's then that Lena realizes she's crying.

Over her.

Because she's dead.

* * *

It's strangely easy to attune herself to Webby's schedule. Lena isn't sure that shadows need to eat or sleep- she's certainly not done either, unless you count falling into that coma-state she got when she overexerted herself as sleep- but it's more than that. Webby spends a majority of her time in her personal library, paging through books Lena can't read, taking notes in ciphers and tongues beyond the teen. She eats by her lonesome, sleeps by her lonesome, _is_ by her lonesome a lot of the time. They never really go anywhere that first month or so, and even as she starts to go back on adventures Lena can watch her without leaving the cocoon of the dark.

It's... incredibly lonely.

And it's not until Lena watched Webby sketch a detailed diagram of her old pendant that Lena realizes that it's because of her.

Lena swipes her arm across the table, hoping to see books fly, hoping that Webby will just sit up and _look at her_, but they don't and she doesn't. "It's not fair!" she screamed. "Why does Aunt Magica get to ruin this? Why did she even _want_ to? What was the point of surviving these past fifteen years if I managed to _die_ right when it got good?"

She's so close to giving up and crying she doesn't notice Webby getting more and more frustrated, tapping the tip of her mechanical pencil to the notebook, until finally she snaps and chucks it at the wall. The sound of plastic cracking gets her attention faster than any of the numerous mean names her Aunt has spat at her over the years.

Webby slams her fist on the table and takes a deep breath. "You're not allowed to be dead," she said to what she thought was nothing. Webby sat down and pulled another pencil out. Lena sat across from her and watched. She had really pretty handwriting.

* * *

"Y'know what I should've done?" Lena says to Webby, who can't hear her, as she lounges off the girl's bed upside down. When she was alive, blood would've rushed to her head. It's weird to be envious of being dizzy. "I should've taken you to a Featherweights concert."

Webby is still awake in spite of the late hour, and still scribbling away. Lena has become accustomed to the silence. "I didn't lie about that, Webby. I mean, I did, but not really. I've been to Paris. I've been to a concert. And their singer does love grunge like this." She pulled the ridge of her shirt away with a grimace. "Music was one of the few things Aunt Magica and I had in common, I guess."

The flip of a page.

"Ugh, I feel so bad about that now. You would've loved going to a concert- doesn't matter who was playing. All the bright lights and smoke and yelling. Crowd-surfing! You would _love_ crowd-surfing." Lena stared hopefully at the ceiling. "Hey, deities or whatever. You change me back, I'll take Webby to every concert ever. Sound like a plan?"

No one answers.

* * *

Webby wraps her own cuts by herself, or so it must appear. But Lena is with her always these days, having not much else to do, and she whistles long and low. "Did quite the number on yourself there, pink."

Webby sighs and starts binding the bandage on her hand. She sighs a lot. Lena wonders if she's trying to fill the silence as much as she is.

That said, they both jump where there's a knock on the bathroom door. Beakley pokes her head around the corner. "Dear? May I come in?"

"Uh-oh," Lena says. "Time for the lecture."

"Sure, granny," Webby says.

Lena edges out of Beakley's way in spite of space not really being a problem anymore, propping herself on the lip of the tub. Had she been alive, it might've hurt. Lena misses pain.

Beakley takes over on wrapping. Webby's chin quivers. "It's hard, granny."

"It's hard to lose someone you care for," Beakley agrees in a roundabout way. "We all miss Lena."

Lena stuck her tongue out, wishing she had some popcorn to throw. Wasn't drama supposed to be interesting? "Boo, corny dialogue."

"I know."

"And she wouldn't want you to live like this." Beakley squeezed her good hand. Lena missed being able to do that waaaay more than she missed pain or being dizzy or sad or even being happy. She just missed Webby a lot, which was stupid because she was _right there_. "You're a growing girl, Webby. You need fresh air and adventure and mystery. I made a mistake, cooping you up like I did. Don't follow in my footsteps and do it yourself."

Webby snatched her hand away like it's on fire. "You just want me to give up on her!" she flung the accusation at her. Beakley stared at her, prompting the girl to sink into her feathers. "Sorry, granny. It's just... I can't do it."

"I would never make you give up on anyone." Beakley opened her arms. Webby scooched inside. Lena had only been hugged by Beakley once, but she knew it was soft and warm. "But maybe... take a break?"

Lena choked on useless, useless air and waited for a response. She didn't want Webby to take a break. She didn't want her situation to be something easily thrown by the wayside, like a million or so old maps and half-forgotten treasures in Scrooge McDuck's basement.

It's not her choice, of course. Not much about Lena had ever been a choice.

"Okay, granny."

* * *

Over time, Webby stops crying when she's alone. She stops sticking her hand in her pocket to fiddle with the friendship bracelet. She smiles more.

It's... good. Good is an understatement. It's great! Lena is happy she's happy. Happy she can do the things she loves again, with at least a portion of that love having returned. But then she seems almost back to normal, with a few new additions. She goes to the library more. Her best friend is Dewey Duck. She stops saying Lena's name.

And Lena, who can't speak, who can't just wave a hand in front of her face, is left with more static than before. Because it's not even been a year. Webby's ready to move on and _it's not even been a year_.

There's nothing she can do. After all, she's dead. She doesn't mind being dead, the same way she didn't mind being a shadow. It's just a title; _Lena, shadow, former puppet of Magica de Spell, dead._ But...

"Don't forget me, Webby," she pleads, hovering near her bed in a position that might be considered praying if Lena was religious. She's not. Even if she was, haunting the living is all a shadow can have. "If you can't ever forgive me, that's okay. _Just don't forget_."

**Author's Note: Woot woot! Stream of consciousness has been My Jam lately lol. Grief is hard and long at the best of time- Webby's just learned to hide it, afraid of pulling a Scrooge and losing the rest of her family, and since Lena can't exactly ASK she just assumes she's being forgotten (yes that's a tie-in to... related lore/canon. If you know what I'm talking about, then Yes That Was On Purpose)**

**-Mandaree1**


End file.
